


The I Word

by bobadeluxe



Series: The Business of Pleasure [2]
Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship, Clothed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Pre-Canon, Sexual Confusion, Stream of Consciousness, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe
Summary: What qualifies as an 'infatuation' anyway? How is he supposed to know? He doesn't think he is attracted to Brutus deeper than a physical level. (That feeling is mutual too, as the bodyguard reminded him.) They like each other well enough and they get along just fine, but it's more of a mutual respect than anything else.Then again, Brutus has been fucking him on every surface possible for the last three weeks. One may consider that as being 'infatuated with your employee' and Midas wouldn't be able to fault them for their assumption.
Relationships: Brutus/Midas (Fortnite)
Series: The Business of Pleasure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734541
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	The I Word

**Author's Note:**

> and i oop

When is dating your employee problematic? According to the pamphlet TNTina hastily put together with Powerpoint, there are many factors to consider. First and foremost would be the power dynamics in the workplace, which may impact the employee's ability to consent. Well then. Midas could cross that one off the list; they've established the basis of their relationship to a great extent.

When Midas decided that the 'thing' between him and Brutus was going to be..  _ official _ , they discussed the terms of their relationship in a manner not unlike when they negotiated Brutus' employment contract. There was the same attention to details, the same back and forth over boundaries, and the same goal towards mutual benefits. Brutus may be attracted to him, but not  _ that  _ much. He isn't taken with Midas to the point where his judgement is compromised, as flattering as that would be. Brutus is a consenting adult; he is older than Midas. He wouldn't be with him if he doesn't wish to. His sense of obligation only goes so far. Midas doesn't pay him enough for that to even be a possibility. 

Second would be.. preferential treatment. Right. That, too, is not a cause for concern. Brutus was hired as a security officer, Midas' number one bodyguard, and he remained thus even after they had slept together. There was no change done to his designated duty or compensation that would be considered favorable than others. If anything, his job gets harder because he is now stationed at The Grotto. The POI henchmen called 'the ass end' of the Island. It's dark all day no matter what time, their air is hot and heavy, difficult to breathe, and there is nothing to do in terms of entertainment for miles, being desolated as it is. No one wants to be assigned there. If Midas were to favor Brutus above other agents, he would've assigned him to.. say, The Yacht, but Brutus is the best man for the job. Midas wouldn't deter from his careful, well-thought out master plan, just because the man is  _ terrific  _ in bed.

The third, pamphlet warns, is the risk of becoming  _ infatuated _ with your employee. The consequences of this prospect is dangerous, you see. It messes with your head, affects your professional relationship, and who knows what would happen after the inevitable demise of passion. Obsession lasts two years at most (basing on his previous relationships), but bad blood runs for generations on end. You've put yourself in an incriminating position, and exposed your vulnerable side to someone who could use it against you. Imagine that, they could weaponize your intimacy! 

Midas may or may not have trust issues. Though he likes to call it being cautious.

This one is hard to dispute. What qualifies as an 'infatuation' anyway? How is he supposed to know? He doesn't  _ think  _ he is attracted to Brutus deeper than a physical level. (That feeling is mutual too, as the bodyguard reminded him.) They like each other well enough and they get along just fine, but it's more of a mutual respect than anything else. Then again, Brutus has been fucking him on every surface possible for the last three weeks. One  _ may  _ consider that as being 'infatuated with your employee' and Midas wouldn't be able to fault them for their assumption. 

Running The Agency is stressful work. Midas may not show it, since he doesn't like coming across as incompetent and he doesn't confide in his agents very often (if at all), but this island took a toll on him. The local conflicts have interfered with his takeover more times than he could count, causing him terrible headaches and numerous sleepless nights. Every week or so some outlandish, insane event occurs and it throws a wrench (or ten) into his entire operation. Managing his henchmen is exhausting enough, but with each new recruit of superpowered individuals more colorful than the last, vampires, monsters,  _ weird slime creatures _ , his roster becomes harder to control. He still hasn't figured out what's the deal with that red mask lunatic. Hopefully his existence doesn't turn into a threat, and instead continues to be a nuisance to everyone. Midas already has his hands full with the rise of the self-proclaimed  _ Shadow _ organization.

In a way, fucking Brutus is therapeutic. Midas never had an outlet before, as necessary as he realizes that it is. He usually just gets stressed and then  _ stays  _ stressed. Until he gets used to it and it becomes his new state of being. By the time he would've already forgot he was stressed in the first place. He couldn't afford to dwell on problems far too long, so it's better to just move on and work for the solutions.

Fucking Brutus to de-stress is by far the superior alternative.

Hello, new coping mechanism. Pleased to make your acquaintance. 

There are the basic benefits, such as the oxytocin release and the increased dopamine rush. A very simple by-the-book explanation of pleasure provided by sexual intercourse. Then there is a.. mental aspect to this arrangement, for lack of better words. As The Agency's renowned genius mastermind, getting fucked stupid on a weekly basis appeals to Midas in ways you wouldn't imagine. Instead of The Agency's conspiracy, he only needs to concern himself with the human body's most base desires. Like a lust-addled addict whose primary concern is getting his daily fix. No higher ambition. There is no grand scheme at play, only the tasks Brutus sets out in each scene. All of which could be accomplished in a few, easy steps by giving up control and following orders. The instructions are near impossible to fail, and the rewards are imminent and much more tangible than his usual missions. Praises, orgasms, and getting dicked down give Midas the instant gratification that long term stability, territory control, and mining rights fail to provide. It's just.. more _fun_ this way, to put it simple. 

Even failing Brutus' orders is exhilarating. It blows his mind that failure could  _ feel  _ rewarding. That instead of the total collapse of his organization, and the ruins of everything he holds dear.. the worst punishment he could recieve is spanking. Maybe getting scolded a few times in Brutus' dad voice. It's incredible. Sometimes Midas misbehaves on purpose because he knows he could get away with it. That no matter how he messes up during their play pretends, it's  _ nothing  _ in comparison to what would happen to him if his master plan goes wrong. To be honest, he likes giving Brutus grief. Seeing the poor bodyguard getting aroused beyond belief from Midas being mean to him is high entertainment. Dominating  _ Midas _ shouldn't come easy to him anyway, he must work for it. So he puts up a fight, struggles against everything Brutus throws at him, and tests his limits by provoking him every way he knows how. Then here comes the retaliation – Brutus holding him down with his massive strength and fucking his brain out.

So, about the infatuation concern..

"Is that all you've got, Brutus?" Midas moans. "Come on, harder!"

They are having sex..  _ again.  _ This time he is barely aware of how it started. They were arguing, he thinks. One of those arguments-as-foreplay both parties are fully aware would lead to nowhere but sex, but they still play along anyway. Before he knows it, he is lying on his desk with his legs wrapped around Brutus' waist. His heels digging into the small of his back, urging Brutus to get rougher. He didn't even take off his shoes. They are both still fully clothed, having only bothered to pull their pants down in a hurry. What are they, a pair of horny teeangers? It's like they couldn't keep their hands away from each other or.. something.

_ Don't think about it.  _ Leave TNTina's nosey pamphlet on the floor, along with.. literally everything else that Brutus knocked off of his desk. Ugh. Just enjoy it. He's got a good thing going on. A perfectly working system. A mutually beneficial arrangement. Why ruin a good thing?

Focus on the physical part. Brutus hands holding him down at the waist, fingers digging into the barest peak of skin beneath his shirt. Even with his clothes in the way, Midas is certain he will bruise tomorrow. Brutus' large hand prints, burning red on his hip bones. Then of course there is the delicious stretch from his cock, thrusting into him so hard Midas has to hold onto the desk' edges in fear of falling off. The constant pressure against his prostate is making his eyes roll back in his head. Every little push causes his cock to drip pre-cum on his expensive, tailor made suit. It's embarrassing how  _ wet _ Midas gets when they have sex. He hasn't come yet, but already his pre-cum is pooling into a small stain on his navel. He's making a mess because he couldn't resist touching himself, jerking his cock along to Brutus' rhythm, fingers rubbing along the slick, sensitive head. 

It's all so very overwhelming, the physical part of it. Everything is. The sounds of his desk shaking, heavy breathing, and the sloppy, filthy noises that his body is making. He's drooling for it, dripping with need, maybe he did use too much lube after all and – god – the moaning. The way Brutus  _ growls  _ when their bodies connect, having pushed his cock inside him to the hilt. If the room wasn't soundproof the entire Agency would've already known the true nature of their relationship. Not that they have been doing a good job of hiding it, with the 'supplies' he now keeps in his desk's drawers, and the knowing look TNTina has been casting towards him. Wait, no, no,  _ no!  _ He is thinking about it again. Stop that train of thought before it leaves the station. Focus on… Brutus. Yes. Him.

"Are you alright, sir?" Brutus suddenly asks. Fuck. He must've zoned out.

"I'm fine, Agent." More than fine, even. He is fantastic. 

Midas loves when Brutus calls him Sir. They have tried on a lot of titles. Even gave the 'daddy' thing a chance much to Brutus' grimace. In the end, he likes this the best. The perversion of their positions outside the bedroom. 

With the momentary distraction gone, Brutus continues moving. Fucking into Midas with long, powerful thrusts that force another moan from deep within his throat. Fuck, he is good. It's hard to believe that he has never been in a relationship before... or has he? He only said that he was never 'interested' in someone. Perhaps what he meant is that he never felt romantically attracted to anyone before. Only on the physical level, as he said. Okay. That is… hot. The image of Brutus as a stud whose interests lie in fucking, never lovemaking, appeals to Midas more than it should. Is it healthy to lust after the unattainable? Would he give Brutus any time of day at all if the man  _ loves  _ him? Probably not. It also means that Brutus isn't interested in dating him, but who cares. Midas wouldn't anyway – couldn't – even if he wanted to, which he does not.

He won't.

At one point Midas stopped touching himself, too distracted by his thoughts. Then Brutus shifts and angles his hips in a way that when he pushes inside again, Midas sees stars. He is hyper-aware of his neglected erection now that Brutus is pressed right up against his prostate. Midas' hand moves toward his cock on instinct, but stops midway. Could he come this way? Untouched? He almost did just a second ago. The pressure was so intense it knocked the air out of his lungs, and his legs went stiff around Brutus' waist they could've held him in place if Brutus didn't power through.

He reaches up to Brutus' neck instead, holding him tight for the ride. Brutus chuckles.

"Insatiable, aren't you?" Brutus teases. "Couldn't get enough. Always come back begging for more. Fuck, still so tight, too."

Brutus is now leaning down over him, pinning Midas in place with his body. His muscular form is a comfortable weight, and an unbearable heat that trapped Midas' cock between their stomachs. The friction against fabric is the only stimulation his cock receives, but it might just be what he needs.

"Are you going to come like this, sir?" Brutus whispers into his ear. "Going to come on my cock, untouched?"

_ Yes _ . Midas wishes he could say, but his voice is occupied with futile attempts to choke back moans.  _ Yes, I'm going to come on my bodyguard's thick cock. _

Midas spills all over their suits as he comes. Brutus doesn't stop just then, but thrust along milking him to the very last drop. When the stimulation becomes too much, and Midas is left a trembling, fucked-out mess beneath him. Brutus finishes inside the condom not long after with a grunt. He pulls himself out and off of Midas, staring down at Midas with a curious glint in his eyes. Observing the damage, he supposes. It's so..

Brutus doesn't wear sunglasses when he fucks. Not this time, at least. It's absurd. He always wears them no matter where he is, inside or outside. During missions or his time off. Even during combats, the one time you would  _ not  _ want your vision to be obscured. Yet somehow having sex with Midas is the occassion worth taking off his sunglasses for. Only polite, he supposes. It wouldn't bother Midas this much if Brutus didn't look so..  _ human  _ without them. He looks young, and vulnerable, with the naked emotions in his eyes. The lust.

"Midas?"

Well, that's upsetting. "Yes?"

"I mean – Sir," Brutus corrects himself. That's better. "May I kiss you?"

Midas' heart skipped a beat. They have never done that, haven't they?

Against Midas' better judgement, he allows it. Blame it on the post-coital bliss. "Permission granted, Agent Brutus."

The proper title, to humble him.

Brutus leans down again this time to kiss him. It's the most awkward kiss in Midas' life, including his first one. When he was young with an arguable amount of naiveté, and could be forgiven for his skill (or the lack of it.) This time feels like his first kiss, but without the excuse and the novelty. It's like they don't know how they fit together yet, and they may never will. Brutus doesn't shave closely enough, and his stubbles are painful on Midas' face. They keep turning the wrong way, at the wrong time, Midas' sharp cheekbones could bleed a man dry. They've had sex together many, many times, yet when it comes to kissing they are struggling, having neither practiced nor experienced with one another.

In a sudden, a small miracle occurs. They find a rhythm, an angle, the right amount of teeth and tongue, and the thirst for one another. Brutus is licking into his lips and then –  _ oh, wow – _ and then Midas is being touched all over. Brutus' hands travel at his sides, tucking his shirt up as much as his vest would cooperate, and slipping underneath when it wouldn't. Midas holds Brutus by the neck, caressing the tight cord of muscles around his tattoos. The sounds of their lips feel more intimate than sex, especially when Brutus is moaning into his mouth. Every time one of them pulls back to breath, the other would chase after him. An almost magnetic attraction pulls their lips together, each time with an unbridled ever-increasing passion. 

Midas is now sitting on the desk, pulled up by Brutus a minute or so ago. He couldn't keep track of time with all the kissing intending to steal his breaths away. Then Brutus pulls away, their eyes met, his lips are still kissed-pink and slick with spit and –

"I love you.."  _ Huh _ "..r cock."

What the hell was that.

Brutus blinks. Once. Twice.

"I, uh," Midas would like to be assassinated by the Shadow team now, please, thank you very much.

"Thank you, sir." Brutus recovers, and that was that.

Well then. They dress up in silence. Brutus excuses himself to wash up. Midas allows him to use his private restroom, considering that he just came on the poor man and he doesn't have a change of clothes around like him. Midas sits on the desk, listening to the distant sound of running water as he contemplates his life choices. Without thinking about it, his eyes search for TNTina's pamphlet, only to find Brutus' discarded sunglasses on the floor. Probably fallen off the desk during sex while they weren't paying attention.

He gets down to pick them up, then props himself up on the desk again as Brutus re-enters the room. Droplets of water cling to his shoulders still.

"Agent, come here for a second."

Brutus walks up to him then, after noticing the sunglasses in Midas' hands, he puts both hands on the desk next to his hips. Bending over a bit, compensating for the height difference. Waiting. 

Midas puts his sunglasses back on for him. Are his hands shaking? His fingers tremble when they touch against the sides of Brutus' skull. The telltales aura is glowing from his fingertips, threatening to spread, to  _ devour.  _ It takes all of Midas' self-control to suppress it. 

"Thank you, sir," Brutus says afterward.

"You're very welcome, Agent Brutus," Midas folds his hands over his lap. Not yet trusting himself to touch anything else.

Brutus has got to be taking his reservation the wrong way, because then he says, "Don't think too much about it."

Midas frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

"People say things they don't mean all the time." Oh, right. That. "It doesn't bother me."

Midas swallows. "No?"

"No."

"Still, I will keep it to the minimum."

"I said it's fine," Brutus insists. He leans in close once again, the last time, to give Midas a quick peck at the corner of his mouth. When he pulls away, the moment is gone. "I should return to my post. Excuse me."

He's gone. The room is already too quiet.

Infatuation. Infatuation. In-fa-choo-ei-shn. Doesn't even sound like a real word, to be honest. 

Whatever. He got work to do.


End file.
